


Stars, Like Holes in the Sky

by roseclaw



Series: Slayer'verse [4]
Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseclaw/pseuds/roseclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad things happened whenever Brendon drank. He should just give alcohol up entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars, Like Holes in the Sky

**Fandom**: BtVS and Bandom (Panic and MCR) (and probably Supernatural)  
**Pairing**: Spencer/Brendon, Spencer/Brent  
**Rating**: R  
**Word Count**: 6000-plus words  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Warnings**: A bit of dubcon. Crack!!! Backstory!!! Um… Bitchy Ryan Ross?  
**Author's Note**: Beta by . There are some quotes in here from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. Those aren't mine. This is the Spokane story mentioned in [34th and Vine.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/18735) Title from Fix You by the Offspring.  
**Disclaimer**: MCR and Panic belong to themselves. Buffy belongs to Joss.  
**Summary**: Bad things happened whenever Brendon drank. He should just give alcohol up entirely.

-

Stars, Like Holes in the Sky

-

It was New Year's Eve, and Brendon was three sheets to the wind. It was awesome. He loved everyone.

"I love you, Ryan Ross!" Brendon announced, dancing into Ryan's personal space. It had been Ryan's idea to find a party. They had just finished up a job that had brought them to Spokane, and this time Brendon wasn't the one who ended up covered in demon guts. That was Ryan, whose personal space Brendon had invaded. The only problem was that Ryan liked to keep his personal space personal, which, as Brendon saw it, was a selfish squandering of precious natural resources.

Ryan pawned Brendon off on Spencer, who had been standing in the shadows with Brent.

"Spencer Smith!" Brendon exclaimed. "I love you, Spencer Smith!" He then clung to Spencer, wrapping his arms around Spencer's waist. "Pretty, pretty, Spencer Smith."

Brent gave Spencer an amused look, which Brendon chose to ignore just as valiantly as he ignored Ryan's smug expression. He really did love Spencer. Even when sober. Everyone knew that. Satellites could pick up on that from space. The problem was that Spencer didn't love Brendon. But that didn't matter, because Brendon was toasted, and everyone needed to be loved when he was drunk.

"Why don't you love me, Spencer Smith?" Brendon pouted up at Spencer. He also liked the way Spencer's name sounded when he was drunk. "Spencer James Smith the Fifth!"

Spencer gave Ryan a look. One that meant they were having a sooper-sekrit telepathic conversation, which was even more creepy because neither of them were actual telepaths. Brendon's sister had dated one for a while. His parents hadn't known their daughter was dating someone "different" - the bad kind of different. His name was David, and Brendon had been the one to discover that he was a telepath. David had then exposed Brendon to a whole new world of everything. David had introduced Brendon to thoughts he hadn't even known he had thought. After that a lot of things had made so much more sense.

Brendon squeezed Spencer's waist. "Elope with me tonight," he said.

"No," Spencer responded. "You're going to have a bitch of a hangover in the morning. Hell if I'm putting up with that."

"You are… so mean!" Brendon announced. He didn't let go of Spencer, though.

Spencer gave Brent a look. "Okay, let's work on minimizing that hangover." Spencer dragged Brendon over to the bar and bought him a bottle of water.

"It's love," Brendon declared between gulps. Then, "I have to pee."

Spencer sighed.

 

\- - -

 

Brendon woke up in the new year with a very full bladder. He climbed out of the very uncomfortable and lumpy motel bed that made his back hurt in ways that had nothing to do with straining his butt muscles when they were going after that demon - and he was not telling Ryan about that. He'd be sore for a while and watching his movements, but he wasn't telling anyone that - and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He blearily caught a glimpse of the glowing green numbers on the clock. 5.15.

"Oh, fuck," Brendon heard from the other side of the wall. It sounded like Spencer, but Brendon had never heard Spencer use that breathy tone before. Not even in Brendon's elaborate fantasies starring Spencer. Like the one where Brendon was cooking naked - save for an apron - and Spencer came up behind Brendon, bent him over the counter, and licked him open until he sobbed for release. Yeah. That was a good one.

This was a betrayal. Spencer had someone other than Brendon in his bed. It hurt. It hurt even more because the night before, Spencer had returned with the rest of them. He had been the most sober of all of them. Spencer was the responsible one. He took care of them when they were too drunk or injured or whatever to take care of themselves. That's how the world worked.

"God, Spencer" was muffled through the wall. That was too much. Because that was Brent.

Brendon bit his lip to distract himself from the painful lump in his throat and the pinpricks under his eyes.

He left the bathroom quickly, almost forgetting to open the door. He then crawled into Ryan's bed and clung to him.

Ryan woke up as Brendon buried his face into Ryan's neck.

"Guh," Ryan said. "What the fuck, asshole?" he growled, still half asleep.

There was a thump from the next room over.

"Spencer and Brent," Brendon whispered miserably. He was glad Ryan was able to make quick leaps of logic, connecting the thump with Brendon's brokenness.

Ryan put a hand on Brendon's head but didn't push him away. "Go back to sleep," Ryan said.

Brendon didn't know if he'd be able to, but in his dreams, Spencer was still his. And also in his dreams, Ryan couldn't accuse him of being melodramatic.

 

\- - -

 

Brendon woke up to Spencer and Ryan arguing. Brendon's head hurt, and the arguing made it worse. He wasn't hung over. It was a different headache that meant Brendon had been crying. Christ, how embarrassing. He buried his head under a pillow that smelled like Ryan and was not as comforting as Brendon had hoped, but it blocked out the arguing. It didn't block out the slam of a door or the shuffling of feet.

"I know you're up," Ryan said. His voice was devoid of emotion. More so than usual. "You and I are going out to replace our damaged weapons."

Brendon took the pillow off his head.

"And that music store," Ryan continued.

Ryan clearly was doing Brendon a favor. It was weird. Usually it was Spencer who… oh.

There was a thump followed by another thump and a giggle.

"Yeah," Brendon said. He hastily pulled on the clothes he had worn the day before - happily devoid of demon chunks - and followed Ryan out the door.

 

\- - -

 

Brendon found a bar that was holding a Guitar Hero tournament that night. He had his arms full of bags of assorted weaponry, a banana-mango smoothie, and the new Fall Out Boy CD. He had needed to beg Ryan for the CD. Ryan didn't see any reason to buy the CD when Patrick had sent them a demo, and they needed to stretch out their money as far as possible, and it was Brendon's turn to fill up their van.

Brendon had in turn argued that he had earned his own money - he kicked ass in karaoke contents - and he was going to earn even more when he started touring with Vicky-T the next time they hit New York, plus he was going to need a complete, finalized copy to DJ with. The world needed to hear Dance, Dance.

Ryan had given in, and Brendon was happy.

"We _need_ to go," Brendon gushed. "It'll be kickass!"

"No," Ryan said.

"It's not like we have another job yet," Brendon wheedled. "Wouldn't it be nice to stay in one spot for a few days after a job when no one was hurt?" He also selfishly wanted the honeymoon period of Spencer-and-Brent to wear off before he had to share a van with them.

"Fine," Ryan agreed, only slightly sullenly. Brendon knew exactly how to influence Ryan. Spencer was the last one hurt. Two weeks ago. It had shaken Ryan just as much as it had Brendon. Spencer had taken a stake to the chest: some vampire with a twisted sense of humor. It didn't penetrate Spencer's ribcage, but he still lost a lot of blood. Brendon and Ryan had tag-teamed the fucker with a stake to the front and a stake to the back. Ryan had been the one to help Spencer recover. Brendon and Brent had hunted down the rest of the nest. Brendon may have gone a little overboard: he went in with a flamethrower of sweet, sweet justice. Brent had been amused, though.

"Awesome!" Brendon enthused.

They went back to their motel room to drop off their new toys. Spencer and Brent were no longer as quiet and considerate as they had been earlier. In fact, Brent was howling for Spencer to fuck him harder.

Brendon and Ryan looked at each other and blushed.

"Uh, let's go," Ryan suggested.

Brendon nodded mutely. Maybe they could find some brain bleach. Or invent some. Or use real bleach. That memory needed to be _gone_. Not only was it still painful that Spencer had chosen Brent over Brendon, but Brendon really didn't need to know that much about anyone's sex life but his own, thank you very much. Okay, he also wanted to know about Spencer's sex life, but only when it corresponded with Brendon's own.

 

\- - -

 

Ryan and Brendon ended up playing Guitar Hero long into the night. Brendon won the tournament and its prize of $500 cash.

"Now you don't have to worry your pretty head about money," Brendon said to Ryan as they walked back. He munched on a handful of Ryan's salt and vinegar chips.

Ryan glowered at him.

"500 bucks!" Brendon reminded him, spraying crumbs onto the sidewalk.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "We should see if Spencer and Brent need any new inventory."

Brendon's high dissolved.

Ryan gave him a careful look, but knocked on the door to Spencer and Brent's room anyway.

Spencer answered the door. He wasn't wearing anything. Brendon tried really hard not to look down. It took a lot of willpower. Brent - in an equal state of undress - came up behind Spencer, wrapping his hands around Spencer's very trim waist. Okay, so Spencer still had a little bit of a tummy, and it made Brendon all gooey inside.

Brendon still didn't look.

Brent's hand dipped lower.

Brendon tried really, really, really hard not to look.

Brent started to nibble on Spencer's neck. Spencer tilted his head back and onto Brent's shoulder and moaned.

Ryan snarled and shoved Spencer and Brent back into the room, slamming the door behind them.

Brendon wasn't sure what he should feel. He was still betrayed, but damn, that was hot.

Ryan dragged Brendon back to their room.

"Something's wrong," Ryan said. He worried his lower lip.

Brendon sat down hard on the dingy motel carpet. He tried not to think about what might be living in it.

"Spencer - Spencer's off," Ryan continued, staring at the wall blankly. "And Brent's straight."

Brendon nodded mutely. He knew both of those facts.

"Just," Ryan sighed in frustration.

"I'll call Patrick," Brendon offered. He needed to do something. Otherwise, he would go crazy. Or numb like Ryan.

He hurried outside to make the call, leaving Ryan to stare at his wall.

Patrick barked into the phone when he answered it. "Goddamn it, Urie. This had better be good. It's five fucking am." That meant they were on the East Coast somewhere.

"There's something wrong with Spencer and Brent," Brendon said softly.

"Fuck," Patrick said vehemently. "Where are you?"

"Spokane," Brendon answered, starting to pace up and down the sidewalk, wishing he had brought his coat with him. He could see his breath.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked. Brendon could hear movement on Patrick's end.

"Spencer and Brent have been having sex for the past twenty hours," Brendon said sadly.

"Like, continuously?" Patrick asked, slightly awed.

"Yeah," Brendon said, then added, "Brent's straight."

"We're in Florida," Patrick explained. "Let me call my guys out west. I'll have someone call you tomorrow."

Brendon tried not to be offended that Patrick hung up without saying goodbye. Brendon scowled at his phone for a moment before heading back inside.

Ryan crowded him as soon as he entered the room. At first, Brendon thought that whatever Spencer and Brent had was catching, and Ryan had been infected.

"What did Patrick say?" Ryan asked anxiously.

"He's gonna put us in contact with his West Coast people," Brendon said. "So it's definitely magical."

"Fuck," Ryan said.

Brendon agreed.

 

\- - -

 

Brendon's phone rang at seven in the morning. Brendon had fallen asleep somewhere around six. Maybe. The phone's chirping made both Brendon and Ryan cranky and uneasy.

Brendon did not recognize the number, but he took the call anyway.

"Hello?" Brendon's voice came out sleep-rough.

"Is this Brendon Urie?" a light voice asked.

"Yes," Brendon said suspiciously.

"This is Gerard Way. Patrick asked us to help you out," Gerard explained. Brendon wasn't sure if he was using the royal we or not.

"Can you?" Brendon asked, suddenly very awake. He flapped his hand at Ryan and turned the phone on speaker.

"My friends and I just finished a case in Seattle," Gerard's soft lilt filled the tiny motel room.

"We're in Spokane!" Brendon said eagerly. He gave Ryan a thumbs up and a wink.

"What are the symptoms your friends are showing?" Gerard asked.

"They haven't done anything but fuck each other for the past what - 36 hours?" Brendon looked over to Ryan, who nodded. Brendon doubted Spencer and Brent had stopped in the approximate half hour Brendon had been asleep. Judging by the circles around Ryan's eyes that Brendon was sure wasn't smeared makeup, Ryan hadn't slept at all. Even now they could hear the moans and groans from a poor, abused mattress. "36 hours."

A giggle came over the phone. Brendon didn't think it was from Gerard.

He heard a muffled, "Shut up, Frankie," which was followed by a thunk, followed by a "Thanks, Bob."

"Have they eaten or had anything to drink?" a new voice asked.

"No," Brendon said. "At least as far as I know. They're, uh, they're both guys, and one of them is straight."

"Oh," Gerard said. "We can be there by tonight. Where in Spokane are you?"

Brendon gave him their address, name of their motel, and their room number. He then thanked Gerard profusely until Ryan snapped at him to shut up.

Brendon finally was able to relax enough to go to sleep over the sounds of the squeaking mattress.

 

\- - -

 

Someone was knocking on the door. It woke Brendon up.

Ryan was pacing the room, but he had stopped to stare at the door with wide eyes.

Ryan continued to stare from where he was rooted on the floor while Brendon answered the door in his boxers and wild bedhead.

Four guys stood on the other side of the door. It was like a game of "One of These Things in Not Like the Others." There were three clean-shaven men ranging in height from Brendon to fucking giant beanpole all of whom had very dark hair, and the fourth was a tall blond man with a beard. Most of them had various piercings and tattoos. They looked like they belonged in a punk band, and they sure as hell weren't Jehovah's Witnesses.

"Hi?" Brendon said.

"Hi!" That must be Gerard. "I'm Gerard." He pointed to the person to his left. "This is my brother, Mikey." He pointed to the tattooed man to his right. "This is Frank, and behind me is Bob."

"Awesome," Brendon said. "I'm Brendon, and Ryan's inside." Brendon disappeared inside the room, hoping that Patrick's people would take the hint that he wasn't going to invite them in. He wasn't going to make the same mistake his brother had made.

They seemed to understand and followed him into the room.

Not vampires. Good.

"Our friends are next door," Brendon explained as a moan came through the wall. He blushed.

"Can we see them?" Gerard asked.

Brendon blushed again. Gerard realized what he had said and blushed as well.

Brendon turned to Ryan, whose mouth was set in a grim line.

"I checked on them an hour ago," Ryan said in his flat, don't-fuck-with-Spencer tone.

Brendon knew he looked anxious himself.

"They - It's bad," Ryan said finally. Brendon didn't know what that meant, but it made him even more anxious.

Ryan was the one who directed them outside to knock on Spencer and Brent's door. Someone - Brendon suspected Ryan - had left a "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging from the door handle.

It took a full minute and a half for someone to answer, which did not help Brendon's anxiety.

Brent answered the door sans clothing. Spencer was glued to his back. They were both a mess. They both had bruised all over their bodies, from their necks to their feet; they were both covered in flakes of semen in various states of dryness; they both had sunken eyes; and Brendon could have counted their ribs from a mile away.

Brendon made a soft, squeaky, upset noise, and Ryan grabbed onto him before he could make a break for either Spencer or Brent.

"Spencer," Ryan said slowly. "Brent, these people are going to help you."

Brent pushed backwards against Spencer, who groaned as his eyes rolled back.

Ryan closed the door to their room. Strangers didn't need to see their friends like that.

"Ryan," Brendon hissed. "How long have they looked like that?"

Ryan gave Brendon a contrite look that was similar in girth to his tortured artist look but was hard around the edges. "This morning."

The air caught in Brendon's throat. He pursed his lips and nodded.

"Is there a place the six of us could discuss this?" Gerard asked, politely keeping his tone professional.

Brendon nodded. "There's a 24 hour diner a block from here."

 

\- - -

 

Gerard was on his second cup of coffee before he said anything about Spencer and Brent. The rest of the time Frank had been trying to convince Mikey to stick straws up his nose, but Mikey had been too interested in his own coffee, and Bob had removed all straws from within three feet of Frank. Frank had then tried to climb Bob to take back his straws, which was awkward as Bob sat on the inside of the booth with Frank next to him.

"You said your friends had been like that for the past 36 hours?" Gerard asked.

"Since New Year's morning," Ryan said. "But they only started to look that way this morning."

Gerard looked thoughtful as he ran a forefinger around the rim of his coffee mug. "I think it would be best to separate them while we work on what's wrong," he advised.

"Do you have any ideas?" Brendon asked eagerly.

"Where were they before all this happened?" Bob asked.

"The four of us were at a party," Ryan said. He had his don't-fuck-with-Spencer face back on. "The four of us returned together."

"And they were fine then," Brendon chimed in. "We've already ruled out potions." Well, he and Ryan hadn't talked about it, but they had both thought it.

"Okay," Frank said. "Not a potion. That means it could be one of the forty thousand other fucking things. Or more than one."

Ryan gave Frank a sour look.

"Let's start with the obvious," Gerard said. "And work our way from there."

"The most obvious would be a potion," Ryan reminded him.

"And we've already ruled that out," Gerard said with a grin.

Ryan continued to look sour.

Frank blew him a kiss, which made Ryan's face curdle more.

"So the next obvious would be a demon or demon artifact of some sort," Brendon offered, because clearly Ryan was starting to get in touch with his inner bitch. Or outer bitch, whatever. They were syncing up.

"I don't think there's a hellmouth around here. We're too far from a fault line," Gerard continued. Brendon had only been to one hellmouth, and honestly, that explained so much about LA. "So there should be a limited amount of demonic activity." Gerard sounded so proud of himself.

"I'll see what I can do," Mikey said. He abandoned his coffee, took out his Sidekick, and started texting. Brendon had been starting to think Mikey was actually mute - or whatever the term was for saying only one word. In Mikey's case, it had been "coffee."

Gerard nodded approvingly before downing the rest of his coffee.

"We'll see what else we can come up with," Gerard said. "You two should try to separate your friends and keep them separated."

Ryan and Brendon looked to each other in a way that Brendon knew Ryan had laid claim to Spencer.

"Okay," Brendon said to Gerard and Ryan. "You guys know where to find us." Brendon tugged Ryan out, because he knew they were both anxious to check on Spencer and Brent.

 

\- - -

 

It took five nerve-wracking minutes for the door to open.

Brendon made an involuntary choking sound.

Brent had not been a small guy, but he probably weighed less than fucking Ryan now. It broke Brendon's heart more than the idea of stealing Spencer.

Ryan darted into the room, passed Brent, shoving Brent out into the cold night naked.

Brendon frowned as Brent tried to open the locked door. Brendon then took Brent by the shoulders and directed him into the other room.

Brent's mouth kept moving but no sound came out. Brendon didn't want to think about how or if Brent had lost his voice.

"You are in need of a shower," Brendon said to fill the silence. "You smell like death." Looked like death too, but Brendon wasn't going to say that.

Brent fought Brendon every step of the way. However, Brent had practically no muscle left to fight with, and holy fuck, a stiff breeze would break every bone in his body. Not cool. It was the type of not cool that led to bad things, like death.

Brendon tried to keep faith in Patrick's people (as he was one himself), but Spencer probably looked the same as Brent, and they were both friends, damn it!

Brendon had to lift Brent over the lip of the tub, because he wasn't able to support himself on one leg. Or two legs, for that matter. As soon as Brendon turned on the shower, Brent was knocked down by the water pressure, which was rather pathetic. There was practically no water pressure: it had taken Brendon twice as long than usual to wash the shampoo from his hair.

Brendon bit his lip to keep himself from mewling. Brent tried to lift himself from the tub; his mouth was working.

Brendon tried very hard to keep himself objective. He successfully kept his mind blank as he scrubbed stains from Brent's skin, ignoring Brent's pathetic attempts to escape and his pitiful looks. He talked about everything and nothing just to fill the void where pessimistic thoughts could creep in. Brendon was good at talking about nothing.

He almost missed the knock on the door. He turned off the shower and draped a towel over Brent's shoulders so he wouldn't be cold.

Mikey was at the door.

"Come with me," he said.

"Uh," Brendon responded. "Okay. Let me, uh, let Ryan know."

 

\- - -

 

Mikey drove him out to the suburbs. It was the most terrifying drive Brendon had ever had. Mikey kept glancing at Brendon out of the corner of his eye. Brendon desperately clung to the oh-shit handle.

"You're from Vegas," Mikey said. It wasn't a question, but Brendon answered it anyway.

"Yes."

"That's cool," Mikey said. He pulled the car along the edge of the road in front of someone's house. Gerard was waiting outside with a cup of coffee. For himself, not Brendon. And a cigarette.

Brendon smiled at him. "What's going on here?"

"We ran into the Spokane coven," Gerard explained. "They said what happened to your friends was a gypsy love curse."

Brendon stared at him blankly. "A what?"

"This is the gypsy's house. She says she won't remove the curse because of complications involving you," Gerard continued as if hadn't heard Brendon.

Frank poked his head outside the front door. "Good, the little shit's here. Bob's been looming and glaring for the past half hour. He's getting cranky."

Gerard literally pushed Brendon into the house.

"Ah," said a creepy female voice. Okay, it wasn't so much as creepy as Brendon hated her. She sat on an overstuffed floral couch, and she was in her late thirties and very attractive - if one were so inclined. Brendon was not. "There is always a price," she said in what Brendon assumed she thought was a mystical fashion. He'd seen and heard better. He was from Vegas for fuck's sake, even the fake gypsies in the various shows were better than her. "What are you willing to pay?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brendon demanded. "I'm not paying anything. You did this."

"You love that boy," the gypsy explained. "Returning him to right will mean he will never be the way he was before. You have an aura that blocks such things. And I sense witchcraft in your future."

"What the hell?" Brendon fumed. "Make them both better!"

The gypsy looked to Bob. "As you wish," she said. "It was a long enough practice trial. Your Brent will be as he was, but you will find a surprise with your Spencer. I need to work around your aura."

Brendon narrowed his eyes and wished he had brought his crossbow with him. "This is just practice?!"

Bob glared at her from the other side of the room.

"I'll remove it," she said with a wave of her hand. "Let me find my rosemary." She crossed the room to a row of jars, lifting the lid to one labeled as rosemary. She picked up a pinch between her thumb and forefinger and said something in some Eastern European language. The rosemary disappeared in a flash of green.

Brendon looked skeptical.

Bob looked disapproving. "How do we know you lifted the curse?"

Brendon's phone rang. Well, it didn't so much as ring as belt out "It's Raining Men." Brent had fucked with his phone, because Brendon's ringtone was originally "Don't Cha."

Brendon flushed and answered it.

"What the fuck did you do?" Ryan growled.

"What's wrong?" Brendon asked, sucking in a breath.

"Brent's fixed, but Spencer's acting… abnormal," Ryan continued. There was an inflection of panic in his voice. It set Brendon's teeth on edge.

"Abnormal how?" Brendon asked.

"He's… I don't know. He's off but it's not a bad off," Ryan explained.

"What did you do to him?" Brendon demanded of the gypsy.

"He can now see what is in front of him," she said smugly. "I thought you would be pleased."

Brendon calmly said to Ryan, "I'll call you back." He hung up, and then he launched himself at the gypsy with a snarl.

Mikey intercepted Brendon before he could rip out the cunt's throat. "He's no longer in danger," Mikey said reasonably.

Brendon's shoulders slumped and his arms hung uselessly by his sides. Fighting for Spencer was like fighting for Christmas and puppies, but Mikey was right: Spencer was no longer in danger. But he didn't know what was going on. Seeing in front? What the fuck? Why were people who preformed magic so damn cryptic?

"Fine," he muttered bitterly, knowing that he shouldn't anger a gypsy. He had heard the rumors about the vampire with a soul. And this gypsy had already fucked with two of his friends. "Let's go, then."

Gerard attached himself to Brendon's side and herded him out the door with Mikey's help.

Bob pulled Frank away from the rows of jars and the gypsy's manic grin to follow them out.

 

\- - -

 

Brendon was dropped off at the hotel. Gerard went to watch him to make sure that everything had worked out.

The curse was gone, but Ryan was pissy, Brent refused to have anything to do with anything, and whatever Spencer said made no sense until five minutes afterwards when it happened. And listening to his raw, chaffed voice was painful as it was.

"Spencer," Brendon said slowly after Ryan had stomped from the room. "Are you telling us the future?"

Gerard looked intrigued. Spencer looked horrified.

"Brent's going with them," Spencer said, then looked stricken.

"With who?" Brendon asked in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

"With Mikey. Back to Vegas," Spencer said.

Gerard cocked his head to the side. "How did you know Mikey's in Vegas?"

"He _can_ see the future," Brendon said reverently. Then, "Brent's leaving?!" He looked over to Brent huddled in their corner. Brent stared at his knees, refusing to acknowledge anything.

Spencer blushed. "Brent's not - he - "

"Brent's straight," Brendon finished.

Spencer nodded, not looking Brendon in the eye.

"Have either of you eaten?" Brendon asked.

Spencer shook his head, then looked over to Brent.

"I'll order something to be delivered. Can you guys handle sticky rice?" Brendon offered. He reached down and swiped Spencer's bangs away from his gaunt face.

Spencer nodded.

Brendon kissed the top of his head. "I'll be right back."

He made eye contact with Gerard and nodded to the door.

On the other side, Brendon asked Gerard, "Do you think you can pick up some food? For everyone?"

Brendon dug into his pocket and gave Gerard some of the money he had won the other night.

Gerard smiled. "No problem."

Brendon smiled back before heading back in to take care of Spencer and attempt to help Brent.

"Food's on the way," Brendon told them brightly. "Have you guys had anything to drink yet?"

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Ryan made both of us drink."

"Good," Brendon responded. He went into the bathroom to grab the plastic cups the motel provided anyway. He filled two with water, presenting one to Brent and one to Spencer. Brent wouldn't take it, so Brendon placed it on the floor by Brent's feet.

Brendon sat down next to Spencer as he sipped noisily at his water. They sat in silence until Gerard returned with food. His three friends joined them, and they spread out the food on the floor between them.

"I wasn't sure if they're vegetarians or not," Gerard said as he opened cartons. "We went to that Japanese place and that Indian place next door."

"Awesome," Brendon said. He unwrapped some naan and passed it to Spencer, and then Brendon made Brent a plate of rice and put it next to his water �" that he had been drinking, which was a plus.

Brendon then found the miso soup. The four other men stared as Brendon spoon-fed Spencer the soup, making inane comments such as asking if it was a good temperature or if it needed anything.

Spencer, looking moderately tolerant and moderately annoyed, had his eyes locked on Mikey who watched them curiously around his soba noodles.

"Spencer said that Brent's going home with you," Gerard said.

Bob raised his eyebrows.

"He's from Vegas, too," Mikey said. "They all are."

Apparently, that explained everything for Mikey, but Brendon was still upset that Brent would abandon them. And while, yes, fucking and/or being fucked (Brendon was blocking out the details that were a little fuzzy to begin with.) by one of his friends is a traumatic experience, Brendon knew that Spencer wouldn't cut and run. Of course, Brendon knew that Spencer would never leave Ryan.

Brendon gave Brent a pained expression.

Spencer's eyes widened, then whitened, and he choked on the spoonful of soup. Soup spilled down his chin as Brendon scrambled for a napkin. He dabbed at Spencer's chin with the napkin, ignoring Spencer's eyes.

Spencer's eyes were fucking creepy.

"Spencer?" Brendon asked carefully. Everyone watched as Brendon cupped Spencer's face, ignoring the jagged points of his cheekbones.

Spencer blinked, and his eyes returned to normal. He had the same trapped expression that Brendon had seen on the last vamp he dusted.

"Dude," Frank whistled. "He's a fucking Seer!"

Brendon frowned.

"Seers' eyes go blank when they have a complete vision," Gerard explained.

"But that didn't happen before," Brendon pointed out.

"It's… new. That's what that gypsy did," Gerard realized. Seeing what's in front of him. Dear Jesus, people who performed magic needed to be prevented from speaking cryptically. Because that double meaning and -

"Spence?" Brendon asked. "Are you okay?"

Spencer glared at Brendon. It was his Brendon's-a-fucktard glare, so it couldn't have been anything other than the obvious.

"Please give us a moment," Spencer said. He motioned for Brendon to haul him up off the floor. "Bathroom."

Brendon directed them into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. He sat Spencer down on the closed toilet seat, and Brendon sat on the lip of the tub across from Spencer.

"You like me," Spencer said. "You like me, and I spent the past few days fucking someone who wasn't you."

Brendon tried to keep his face neutral or blank or something other than the grimace he knew he was making.

"And now you're being nice to me," Spencer said. "Why?"

"Because someone has to," Brendon said to his feet. "Because it wasn't your fault. Because - of other stuff," he finished lamely. Like he was going to tell Spencer he was in love with him. Now was not the best fucking time. "Never" was an optimal time.

"Brendon, everyone knows you have a super-gay crush on me," Spencer said. Brendon could _hear_ himself blush, but he didn't deny it, because Spencer continued, "Even those four strangers in the other room know it. Your epic gay love can be seen from space."

Brendon looked at his feet waiting for the other shoe to drop. And Spencer had a lot of shoes for droppage. And he was good at a brush-off, too.

"I appreciate it," Spencer said. Wait. What?

Brendon's head jerked up. He stared at Spencer in disbelief. He had no idea where this had come from, but it still wasn't the best time.

"What I saw," Spencer said, not looking at Brendon. "I - You are very important to me. Just as important as Ryan." Spencer paused. "With Brent leaving… we need to be more careful on cases."

"Spence," Brendon said. "We look after each other. All of us." Could Brendon possibly be any lamer? Seriously.

"I'm saying that I want to take care of you," Spencer said with his sardonic, Brendon-stop-being-a-fucktard voice.

"Oh," Brendon said lamely, and almost smacked himself for being so fucking lame. A huge smile broke out on his face.

"If you quote Sandra Bullock, I will rip off your legs," Spencer warned. Like he had the physical strength to do that.

"I wasn't going to - "

"You were," Spencer said firmly. "You shouldn't argue with a Seer."

"Sorry," Brendon said self-depreciatively. "That's my fault. That goddamned gypsy - " He cut himself off. "I'll tell you about it when you're better."

"Good," Spencer said. "You understand me?" Spencer seemed to be taking the Seer thing in stride. Better than the love curse thing. Which, Brendon supposed, was completely understandable. But Brendon was responsible for one of those two, and it made him feel guilty as hell.

Brendon nodded. "You need more food," he declared. "And water. And probably sleep."

"Jesus," Spencer moaned. "Sleep."

"C'mon," Brendon surged to his feet, bringing Spencer along with him. "Before Patrick's people eat all of my Guitar Hero winnings. Oh! I won a Guitar Hero tournament. 500 bucks! Isn't that awesome?"

"Brendon, that's awesome, now shut up."

 

\- - -

 

Brendon chomped down on a somosa when he was sure Spencer had been fed to his limit and Brent had picked at his rice. "What were you guys doing in Seattle?" he asked.

"Starbucks is based in Seattle," Gerard said with a slightly glazed expression. And that was all he said. Brendon was sure there should be more to it than that.

"Their mermaid started to eat tourists and fishermen in Puget Sound," Bob said.

"Isn't it really cold for mermaids here?" Brendon asked, dipping his somosa in tamarind sauce.

Bob shrugged.

"I thought Seattle had, like, selkies, not mermaids," Brendon continued.

Bob's eyebrow twitched.

Ryan chose that moment to join them, albeit sulkily. "I smelled food."

Brendon smiled up at him and offered a somosa.

Ryan took it and examined it before eating it.

"I talked to Pete," Ryan said. "He said Andy's friends are having problems in Wisconsin."

"Cheese!" Brendon enthused. "Fuck City! And Cheese!"

 

\- - -

 

Ryan was still sulking the next day when they packed Brent up in Bob's Jeep. Brent looked a bit less like a skeleton and livelier (same with Spencer), but he still hadn't spoken. He was sandwiched in the back between Mikey and Gerard. It started to sprinkle. It was a cold rain.

"I'll keep you updated," Mikey said. "Alicia can help."

"Alicia?" Brendon asked.

"His girlfriend," Gerard explained.

"Oh, having a girl around will help him a lot," Brendon agreed.

Brendon, Spencer, and Ryan watched them pull out of the parking lot, heading south. Ryan eyed Brendon and Spencer critically, especially where their hands were clasped together.

"Don't start, Ross," Spencer warned.

"Yeah, don't mess with true love," Brendon beamed.

"Get the fuck in the van," Spencer said with a glower. It started to rain harder. "I'm not dealing with you when you melt."

"It's raining in Spokane. Showers in Spokane," Brendon drawled as he climbed into the back of the van, then giggled.

"Seriously, Brendon, shut up," Spencer said, climbing into the passenger's side. "No more cartoons for you."

"Showers in Spokaaaaaaane," Brendon drawled.

"I swear to fuck, Brendon, you say that one more time and I'll break your fucking face," Spencer grumbled.

"It's hot in To-pe-ka." Brendon giggled as he dodged Spencer's swat.

Brendon could see Ryan roll his eyes via the rear view.

"Did Pete say what was wrong with Andy's friends?" Brendon asked. "Too much cheese?"

"Something about werewolves," Ryan responded.

"They are werewolves or they have an infestation?" Brendon pressed.

"It's Pete," Ryan said with a shrug. "Who knows. Spencer, which highway do I want for Milwaukee?"

Spencer dug around under his seat for a map.

Brendon's phone chirped, signaling a text: _Brents fine._

That must have been Mikey. Brendon had no idea how Mikey knew his number. Maybe Gerard told him. Or something. Mikey kinda freaked Brendon out. Just a little.

"Brent's doing fine," Brendon announced. He sprawled across the width of the van. "Don't wake me until there is cheese to be had."

End.


End file.
